Surprise, Surprise
by MorbidbyDefault
Summary: This is for my beloved Stacy, aka SHERLOLLY on tumblr. (Seriously, how did she score the best url ever?) Anyway, Happy Birthday, lovely! I hope you have a celebration this weekend! I know this is late, and short, but yea, I love ya!


This is for my beloved Stacy, aka SHERLOLLY on tumblr. (Seriously, how did she score the best url ever?) Anyway, Happy Birthday, lovely! I hope you have a celebration this weekend! I know this is late, and short, but yea, I love ya!

**I own nothing, yet this is a gift. Lol. All the gifts have been re-gifted from the original creators. **

Enjoy!

**Surprise, Surprise**

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Sherlock had set it all up to the _precise_ detail. His beloved Molly would arrive home at _precisely _5:25 that evening, and would walk up the stairs, which would take anywhere from thirty seconds to one and a half minutes, depending on the day she had endured. He looked at his watch, noting that it was now 5:15 pm. He glanced around, making sure everything was where it should be.

_Flower petals, precisely thirty-four, scattered about the walkway that leads into the living room._

_Thirty-four candles, strawberry scented, her favourite, set about the room, each one precisely staggered for the perfect sense of ambiance._

_Thirty-four delicious chocolate sprinkles, sitting atop one equally delicious chocolate cupcake; one he had made precisely as the recipe instructed._

_John, Mary, their delightfully clever little girl, Rosie, Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade all waited about the room, ready to jump out with a collection of precisely thirty-four streamers, and a wide variety of noise makers for maximum surprise effect. Sherlock knew this, because he had tested their efficiency on someone he knew would shock just as easily as his pathologist; Mycroft. Sadly, his brother had decided against attending the party, precisely as Sherlock had planned._

_Finally, the small box sitting in the middle of the table, holding a small silver and yellow diamond ring. However, instead of thirty-four small accenting stones, there lay only seven. The square-cut centerpiece was larger than its accompanying six white stones, and shone with a golden glisten under the light of the candles. He had scanned nearly thirty-four stores, and well over a hundred options. However, none of them told the precise story of his affection for the pathologist like this one._

_A diamond for each year he had known her. A diamond for each year he had loved her, even if he hadn't realized it at the time._

Sherlock gazed at his watch, noting that it was _precisely_ 5:25 pm. He glanced around, instructing everyone to keep quiet and take their positions. He waited for the sound of the door to close downstairs, and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

In fact, after five minutes, he checked the staircase himself, wondering if she had somehow managed to sneak inside, knowing of his plan to surprise her. However, the door was still bolted shut, the staircase dark and empty. Sherlock tried not to let his mind wander down the several paths of possibilities that could lead to his Molly's whereabouts.

He was just about to race down the steps and out the front door, when he heard the dead bolt click to the other side, the latch coming unlocked from one of very few keys to Baker Street. The suddenly anxious detective made his way back to his place behind the door, waiting to hear the gentle steps of his dear scientific partner as she came home.

Another two minutes, and still no sound could be heard. Sherlock looked across the way, meeting eyes with Mary, who's concern seemed to be growing as well. Surprise and precise planning be damned, he decided that if Molly was in some sort of turmoil at the foot of the stairs, he needed to be by her side. He quickly put a finger to his lips, instructing the rest of them to be quiet still. Rosie let out a small grunt, before she softly giggled as her Uncle Sherlock wrinkled his nose at her.

Sherlock opened the door, and looked down, finding Molly sitting on the bottom step. He quickly made his way down to her, worry etching itself in the tight knit furrow of his brow.

"Molly? What's wrong? You're late getting home." He moved so that he was kneeling on the floor in front of her, his hands brushing her frazzled hair away from her face. She looked up at him, a soft and warbling smile gracing her lips.

"Hi."

"Hello, mind telling me what's wrong?" His question was met with a slight nod, his prompting stare only causing her to let out a long sigh.

"I'm just going to say it, and whatever way you decide to react, that's fine." Sherlock could tell what she was about to say, yet it didn't take away the shock of her words as she spoke them.

"I'm pregnant."

He sat there for what seemed like years, the gears in his mind seemingly stuck on the bit of information that had been deemed impossible until this point. The sound of her light and nervous giggle brought him round, and he quickly looked up at her.

"Are you sure? The doctors, they all said..."

"I know...but... well I've been sick the past few mornings, and we had just thought it was the flu. But then today, I got a craving for mangoes,"

"You're allergic to mangoes," he interrupted. Molly nodded her head, her smile growing as she could see his reaction coming to the forefront of his thoughts.

"So I decided maybe I'd go take a test. I took one, and then another, and another. After the fourth one, I figured the little plus signs couldn't get any bolder." She pulled her hands from her pockets, revealing a total of six pregnancy tests, each one positively glowing with pink. Sherlock didn't wait another moment, and soon lunged forward, his lips colliding with hers. They would have stayed there, were it not for the sound of applause echoing from the top of the staircase. Sherlock looked up, spotting five faces, each one brightly smiling down at the pair. Rosie was the first to throw her streamers, a handful of both blue and pink paper ribbons clumsily tumbling down the stairs.

Soon, the rest of them followed suit, and Molly and Sherlock found themselves draped with thirty-four baby coloured papers. The detective looked at his pathologist, noting how her coy smile had a slight mischievous glint to it.

"I made them promise not to tell you, especially since you were working so hard on my surprise birthday party." Sherlock let out a low chuckle, before shaking his head.

"Rosie." Molly chuckled as well, before leaning in to give him another kiss. It was at this moment, that John sent his brilliant daughter down the stairs, her chubby little legs carrying her toward her dear uncle. Sherlock held his hand out behind Molly's head, and soon grasped the small box from the table in 221B. He continued to distract Molly with kisses, until the ring was slipped onto her finger.

She immediately pulled back, her eyes wide and thoroughly surprised.

"They didn't mention this! I... when did you... how... you mean you...want..." Molly stuttered over her words, not sure what question to ask first. Sherlock simply nodded his head, content in this being an affirmative answer to his own question.

"Precisely, my Molly. _Precisely._"

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

So, I hope you liked it! :D Thanks to Stacy for the prompt, and I hope you had a fantastic birthday!


End file.
